Her legs were tangled in the branches. Somehow she had wriggled in too far! She twisted around, looking toward the battle noises. That was louder now, but saner sounding too. Someone was shouting real language, orders. There were lights. A search—but still down by the river.
“I’m stuck!” she whispered.
Jefri braced his back against the lower branches and pushed up. She heard his knife slashing. Amdi had been at the edges of the undergrowth. Now he pulled as Jefri lifted, and Ravna slid out.
Someone had come running up from the direction of the river. Screwfloss, all five of him. “Get back to camp!” he said. With Jefri supporting her, the walk took only moments. As they reached the wagons, Jefri paused, let Screwfloss help Ravna the rest of the way. Then he walked around the wagons into the campsite.
“What the fuck!” came Gannon’s voice, but this was no brave challenge. When Ravna staggered in with Screwfloss, she noticed that Gannon seemed alone. Even the kherhogs were clustered together as far as they could get from the sounds of the fighting. The draft animals were making their own frightened sounds, probably with as much sense as Gannon. Now bright lamplight was visible downslope, but the noise consisted of solitary screams and Tinish laughter.
A cold nose butted into Ravna’s hand. She stifled a squeak and slid her hand around the head. It was one of Amdi, but his whisper came from all of him, audible only in its sum. “I’m so scared, Ravna.”
“Amdi, get over here!” That was Jefri, already back by his bedroll.
Screwfloss settled Ravna down on her bedding and they both sat looking downslope. The survivors were already coming back, dark shadows that moved with the enthusiasm of hunters returning. She could smell blood on them, but their triumphant gobbling was edged with unease. Minutes later, six more shadows quietly moved into camp: Chitiratifor. She felt sure that some of his heads were turned in her direction, but he did not approach. All the surviving packs settled down and soon the night was quieter than it had been before the deadly fuss. There were no whuffling snores and less of the nighttime noise of small animals.
Ravna’s stark panic gradually eased, even as her mind raced around the possibilities. She was sure that Screwfloss was entirely awake, apparently resolved to keep silent. After a while, Ravna realized something else. Now she really did need a potty break.
It was a very long night.
Chapter 21
Mere mayhem didn’t slow down Chitiratifor. By the time the sun peeked above the valley walls, their little caravan had been on the road four hours. At their first rest break, the ragged-eared pack paraded around in the sunlight, as if to proclaim he was not skulking—or perhaps to show everyone that he was totally uninjured.
Ravna took a count: both wagoneers had torn jackets and wounds on various members. One of them had been a sixsome; now it was five. Amdi was crouched by Jef; the two were talking in the semi-private language they had used since they were little. Screwfloss stood all around the seated Ravna, as if keeping guard on the prisoner. Gannon Jorkenrud sat on the drivers’ bench of one of the wagons. He was unscathed, but at least for the moment his cockiness had disappeared. He didn’t even look sullen. Gannon was frightened.
The pale-eyed fivesome and one other pack were missing.
Chitiratifor swept close to each of the survivors; his gobbling sounded like a combination of boast and harangue. The two wagoneers shrank from his mindsound even as they cast nervous glances at each another. When Raggedy Ears stuck a snout in among Amdi, the eight gave a frank wail of terror and tried to hide behind Jefri.
And Jefri … Jefri did not flinch from the snapping jaws. He stared back at the nearest of Chitiratifor and his tone was level and stony. “I have no idea what you’re saying or what you want.”
That was probably an exaggeration. Jef had as much knowledge of Tinish as any human. Nevertheless, Chitiratifor’s verbal momentum faltered. He goggled at Jefri for a second and then emitted a very human-sounding laugh. “I was talking to the coward.” He gave one of Amdi a rough poke in the ribs. “I laugh to see one of us who thinks a two-legs—a piece of lonely meat!—can be protection.”
Chitiratifor’s laughter morphed into the natural Tinish equivalent. But he backed away from Amdi and Jefri. “And I forget my good manners. We are allies.” Two of him looked in Gannon’s direction. That worthy perked up, recapturing some of his usual arrogance. “That we are, Chitiratifor, sir. Nevil told us to give you full cooperation. Just tell us what you want. Sorry we don’t understand better.”
“Ah.” Chitiratifor rolled his heads with patronizing good humor. “Yes indeed.” He paused, giving all three humans a calculating glance. “So then,” he continued, “in words of simple Samnorsk, I say I found traitors last night. They both are dead now, totally dead.” He jabbed a snout at Screwfloss. “You. You speak Samnorsk.”
Screwfloss dribbled around Ravna to stand respectfully before Raggedy Ears. “Oh, yes indeed,” he said, “better than some humans do, as a matter of fact.”
“Whatever. I want you to explain things to the two-legs when they cannot understand me.”
Screwfloss made a grovelling smile. He was the picture of an intimidated pack, but his Samnorsk was spoken with a sly, Flenser voice. “Yes, my lord. I can be useful in other ways. I may be the only one left who can advise you about the country ahead.”
Chitiratifor emitted a cheerful Tinish laugh, but his patchwork of human voices said: “I’ll cut your throats if you say that to the others. Do you understand?”
“Oh yes, your worship. This is just between you and me and some humans who don’t really matter.”
“Very good,” said Chitiratifor, then added something jovial in Tinish. Amdi remained silent, still hiding his heads behind Jefri, but the wagoneers both chuckled back—surely as ignorant as rocks.
They were still following the river. The path was often steep, bordering rapids and waterfalls. The valley walls climbed high above them. To the west, the snow-covered heights were sun-bedazzled. Jefri was driving the last wagon now; Chitiratifor had given the usual driver some kind of scouting assignment. Raggedy Ears himself drifted up and down the length of the caravan but made no attempt to hustle them past open areas. Maybe Nevil had gotten control of the airship.
Several times that morning, Raggedy Ears consulted with Screwfloss—in Samnorsk. He was totally ignorant of this territory, and just as clearly, he didn’t care if Ravna knew it.
Perhaps the most striking change in the new order was that now Screwfloss chatted quite openly with her. “I wasn’t in on the kill, but I talked to the front wagon driver. The two traitor packs were killed. Chitiratifor hunted down the last of them and dispatched them himself. The pack called—” he warbled a chord or two “—the best you could pronounce it would be ‘Remasritlfeer,’ he was one of Tycoon’s top lieutenants. The other was his assistant. Apparently they both were experts on this rift valley.” At the moment, Chitiratifor was some distance up ahead. He might not be able to make out what Screwfloss was saying, but he could surely hear conversation noise.
Screwfloss must have noticed the surprise on Ravna’s face. “Why am I talking to you now?” he said. He shrugged. “Now that your small human mind has recovered, you’re just someone to listen. What you know doesn’t matter.”
Screwfloss was silent for a moment as he negotiated the wagon’s way across a dip in the trail that at this time of the year was filled with fast-moving water. Some of Amdi braved the cold directly, while about half of him hopped on the back of the wagon and came across dry. They kept their heads down so as not to mix mindsounds with Screwfloss, but nevertheless that pack said severely, “None of your tricks! Understand?”
Among Ravna’s disconnected memories was the vision of Screwfloss chasing Amdi away from her. What had that been all about? A moment later she found out, when Amdi’s focused voice came in her ears: “Screwfloss doesn’t believe I’m smart enough to talk secretly to someone as hard of hearing as a human, not when there is
Screwfloss emitted a screeching hiss.
Amdi hunkered down at the blast, but his secret voice continued: “Heh. He’s just guessing.” But then aloud Amdi said, “I’ll be good. No more tricks. I promise.”
